After Times of Tender Agony: Ch. 7

An Interrupted Meeting

Notes:

A fairly causal chapter for the most part. Some meetings, not much else^^

I made a BIG mistake in the previous chapter (in this whole story, really) regarding the monarchy in Torrboro, and I'll be righting that with a few edits (hopefully) soon. If not, the error is that Chathan can't actually be king, since the apparent Queen of Torrboro is a rather nasty-seeming old woman. So, if it isn't breaking canon, Chathan is her grandson whom everyone likes better^^ (a thank you goes to Andrea for pointing that out :D)

*****

Though in the end Sara hadn’t been able to enjoy Maraly’s company, Janner learned the next morning that the two had gotten up early and spent time walking in the palace gardens, talking about “nothing in particular.”

“How long have you been awake?” he wondered aloud as he glanced over the Annieran documents he would need that day, based on the conversation had at the breakfast table a half hour earlier and the schedule graciously provided by their host. The thin Annieran crest danced between his fingers as he looked over them.

“Since dawn, I think?” Sara said as she stood at the window of his room. “You know, it’s nice. Our rooms are adjacent, so when we look out the window, we see the same thing.”

Janner was still working on processing the fact that Sara had been awake for at least four hours, meaning she couldn’t have gotten much more than a total of six hours of sleep, considering that she had gone back downstairs after the attendant escorted them to their rooms. He wouldn’t be able to function on that little sleep, and even with what he had gotten he would be exhausted before supper time. The next three weeks were ones he was not ready for.

He realized almost too late he needed to comment on the window-thing, so he quickly said, “It’s very nice, Sweet, really. Romantic.”

Sara glanced at him oddly. “Are you alright?” she asked, walking over to him. “Are you sick or worried or anxious or sick?” She covered his hand, the one fiddling with the crest, in hers. Out of the corner of eye, he caught a glimpse of the sparkling blue adorning her finger.

Janner smiled wryly. “You repeated one of those, but I’m not. Just thinking about the weeks ahead and all of this.” He gestured toward the stack of paperwork, the effort surrounding it suddenly dreadfully overwhelming. “I don’t know how we’re going to get through it.”

Smiling lightly, Sara moved to stand behind him and rested her cheek on the top of his head, her arms draped over his shoulders, hands clasped. The diamond glinted reassuringly, gently pressing against his heart. “We’ll get through it together,” she whispered. “Just like everything. We’ll get through it together.”

*****

The first few days went by without a snag. Larger conferences were the only ones taking place that first day, and little of the more detailed information was discussed. Things like maintaining peace treaties and across the board allies were the main things, other than the recesses in which the representatives from each country that would have paired or group meetings within the next few days got together and established a relationship.

One of these was with a place newer on the map, a country called the “Kingdom of Sylow” or just “Sylow.” Her officials had missed the memo and sent only one representative, a young man about Janner’s age named Shastan.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your Majesty,” Shastan said enthusiastically, bowing. “You’ve no idea how much inspiration my people have taken from the Shining Isle.”

Janner smiled, trying to place Shastan’s voice. It sounded oddly familiar. “It’s wonderful to meet you as well, Shastan. Just Janner is fine. And I look forward to talking with you about trading routes and the like.”

“Are you actually?” Sara asked as everyone made their way back to their seats in the banquet hall so they could reconvene. 

Laughing a little, Janner shook his head. “Maybe a little. But he seems genuinely nice, and I hate the thought of letting him down with disappointment from my end.”

“That’s my Janner,” Sara whispered, kissing him on the cheek.

*****

“So, what’re things lookin’ like fer ye today?” Maraly asked, coming into the palace library and surprising them.

Sara spun around from where she had previously been staring at the novels on the shelf and smiled. “It’s the fourth day, so we have Sylow first, Janner, right?”

Janner had just taken a sip of tea, but he nodded. He had looked at the schedule an hour or so earlier. “I hope so, otherwise I’m studying the wrong documents.” With those words, the fact that he might have been wrong occurred to him, and he quickly pulled out the booklet that had every meeting for every day (with times) written in it. “Nope, I’m right,” he said. “We have Sylow first, then Green Hollows, then Lamendron after lunch.”

Sara nodded happily. “Wonderful, thank you!” She went back to speaking with Maraly after that, and Janner stopped listening, taking another sip of the tea.

It was bitter—unpleasantly so—but Sara wanted him to drink it, saying it would help with “everything.” What she meant by “everything,” he wasn’t sure, though he guessed it might have been the headaches and bleary vision and tiredness and whatever else was wrong. He hated running into issues so early into events. At least it kept his hand distracted and unable to fidget with the thin chain or crest.

“Ya know, I’m pretty sure I’ve got Sylow today, too,” Maraly noted, leaning against the bookcase roughly.

“You and...?” Sara asked expectantly, eying her.

“Me ‘n’ who?” 

Janner choked on his tea instead of laughing and automatically waved off Sara’s concern. “You and Dugtown’s other diplomat,” he clarified in one tight breath, more to reassure Sara than anything else. After that he clamped his mouth shut and worked to get his breathing under control. A few more sips of tea helped. 

Maraly’s lips parted slightly before she scowled. “I’ve never seen why I can’t jest do all the diplomatic stuff fer Dugtown. Some idiot named Gebin is the only person Gammon found thet wanted ta come.”

This time Janner had just swallowed, so he didn’t have to worry about choking, just spilling his tea as he set the cup down on the side table, his hand shaking with laughter. “Maybe you’d have more luck finding smart companions if you didn’t insult them all,” he suggested, braver than most people were when it came to addressing Maraly. He had spent a good deal of time trekking across the Ice Prairies with her and knew if she cared about you, her bark was far worse than her bite. If she didn’t care about you, they were pretty much the same and rather fierce.

Maraly glared at him, the slightest bit of a twinkle in her eyes. “I will fight you,” she warned, her hands curling into fists.

Sara placed a hand on her shoulder, pacifying her. “No, you won’t,” she said gently. “Janner was being a bit indelicate, but he has a point. And I’m pretty sure you could be legally charged with treason for attacking him, considering you’ve sworn loyalty to Anniera.”

Her arms now folded across her chest, Maraly sniffed indignantly. “Fine. But when’d I do that?”

“Four years ago,” Janner said with a smile, standing up and walking over, putting his arm around Sara’s shoulders. “It was when you, Gammon, Uncle Artham, Aunt Arundelle, and Ilana came that first time when Uncle Artham nearly got himself killed. I brought a copy of the documented proof if you’d like to see that.”

Maraly shook her head. “Nah. I’m good. But speakin’ of documents, mine and Gebin’s meetin’ with Torrboro is soon, an’ we need ta look over ours again. Bye.” She was gone without much more than a wave that lacked all usual forms of friendliness, and Janner couldn’t help but smile. That was Maraly. She was rough, coarse, a bit insulting, and she didn’t change. There was something nice about that.

“Well, my wife-to-be,” Janner murmured, making Sara gasp a bit and then giggle. “Our meeting with Sylow is soon, and I believe it would be prudent to do the same as Maraly and Gebin, don’t you?”

Sara’s eyes sparkled. “Of course I do, my King.”

As soon as the meeting started, Janner knew it was going to be a long one. The issue was that Anniera had never had any sort of trade or alliances with the Kingdom of Sylow before, and even though he had received approval to form specific ones with them, it would still be a long and draining process. He was a bit surprised by the latter of the two descriptions—he wasn’t supposed to be as worn down as he felt so early in the day. His eyelids shouldn’t have turned to lead, and his head shouldn’t have throbbed dizzyingly. He didn’t even have the motivation to focus himself by fingering the chain.

They had been talking for half an hour, and he knew Sara had taken over a good deal of the necessary dialogue. He couldn’t do anything about it; his tongue had twisted in on itself and refused to loosen, and the knot tightening his stomach wasn’t helping. 

Forcing himself to pay attention to the conversation Sara and Shastan had going, he tuned in, only to register the words, “Wonderful. We’ll resume in, say, ten minutes?”

Shastan nodded, stood, and left the room quickly, either having somewhere he needed to be or just perceptive. Janner felt Sara’s hand on his forehead in a moment and unsurprisingly saw her shake her head. 

“You look terrible,” she murmured. “But you don’t have a fever. How do you feel?”

Janner shook his head in response. “I’m fine,” he insisted, taking a few seconds to force the words out of his mouth. 

“I highly doubt that,” Sara retorted, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at him. 

“Well, I am,” he said with a bit of a smile. As if to counter his words, the knot suddenly became a fist, and it punched him in the gut. He gasped, then gritted his teeth immediately afterward out of frustration.

 “That’s it,” Sara stated emphatically. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but you’re going upstairs, and you will be resting all day. Can you get up on your own?” Without waiting for him to answer, she came closer and put her arm around his back.

As Janner forced himself up (he knew he shook terribly, and he couldn’t do anything about it), he protested anyway. “But…what about the meeting?”

“Janner,” Sara said sharply, guiding him toward one of the more private sets of stairs that led to the second story of the palace. “You couldn’t do much while we were in it, and I managed, yes? No one wants you to be sick the entire conference, least of all me. I want you to be healthy, and if at all possible, I’d like to spend some quality time with you making wedding plans and just talking. We can’t do that if you run yourself into the ground this early!”

They had managed to make it to the top of the flight of stairs while she had been talking, but once there, Janner knew he had to stop. “Sorry,” he breathed, blindly fumbling for the railing’s support, squeezing his eyes shut against the dizziness and hating himself for getting sick far too easily and for making Sara deal with things like that far too often.

“Oh, Janner,” she murmured, placing a hand over his heart. “It isn’t your fault. Now it will be your fault if you don’t rest,” she added as they began walking again, Janner more unsteady than he had been before. “But I know you’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

Janner nodded—barely—and listened with his eyes mostly closed as Sara kept talking softly, about what he wasn’t sure, but it was her voice, and that was enough to get him to his room and into his bed. After that he wasn’t certain about the chain of events, but he knew she was there for a little bit longer, then left with the promise of returning as soon as possible. 

He must have fallen asleep, and she did indeed come back later, when later he wasn’t sure, but it was later. His mind felt even foggier then, and Sara might have left (or perhaps she didn’t). His stomach didn’t hurt as much, though.

At some point the window creaked, and when Janner turned his head and opened his eyes to see why Sara had opened the window, he didn’t see Sara. It was hard to tell in the dark, of course, whoever it was didn’t look like they were a Sara-shaped blob. 

He thought he made a conscious effort to get up to confront the person—at least he hoped it was a person—and his head spun as was expected but then…

Then it screamed and stabbed and flooded his mind with pain and he was down again, crumpled, the golden crest a burning weight against his heart, but that didn’t make sense since he had just gotten up and stood.

All the thoughts stopped with a dreadful crack, though, and the room rang in darkness.

*****

Notes:

Oop. Something happened.... 😬😱

Yes, there are servants and other diplomats and such floating around, but the few Sara and Janner pass make no comment, and he hasn't the motivation nor energy to take note of them.

Let me know if there's anything noncanonical!